Regine Normann’s legends were originally published in two volumes, in 1927 and 1930. I have collated both volumes into one, and added three more legends that she published elsewhere. Legends from Arctic Norway ought to be ready for release in the early summer. Click on the link for a preview of the cover and table of contents.
Additionally, I am putting together an advent calendar of assorted genres of Norwegian folklore by various authors. I plan to publish in October/ November, so that people can enjoy one text a day through Advent. Although I have not yet finalised the cover design, nor publication details, I have posted the table of contents for Christmas in Norway, 2025: An Advent Calendar behind this link. Please take a look.
After a long hard winter of meagre fare, the cock magpie was at his sleekest on the first day of spring. Now it was time for him to call his mate. He knew she would not be able to resist the handsome fellow he saw reflected in the puddle from which he drank.
In fact every creature should be allowed to admire such a fine avian specimen, he thought. It would be their last chance for a while, too, for when he was building his nest, and then gathering food for his mate and chicks, he would not have the time to display himself. Nor would he look so neat and tidy as now.
He flapped his way up to the highest bough of the tallest tree in the forest, a bare larch whose needles had not yet had time to sprout. There he sat, flicking his tail to steady himself as he swayed in the gentle breeze, silhouetted against the sky, visible to anyone who lifted their eyes. But was anyone looking?
He gazed around and saw the fox rooting about in the undergrowth, too busy to take his mind off the search for more food; the squirrel darting up and down a pine tree, looking for the nuts and seeds it knew it had stored around here somewhere; the capercaillie strutting around the forest floor, busily preparing its lek for the mating season. But not one of these creatures – not to mention the flocks of song birds flitting about the forest – noticed him, let alone paid him any attention.
This would not do; such a handsome bird as he jolly well ought to be admired. So he called for their attention.
Here is a strange folktale, originally published in 1845 in a collection of children’s tales. Apparently, children of that time were made of stern stuff, and didn’t suffer from nightmares,
I am now thoroughly disillusioned with everything and anything to do with publishing and distribution. Insert rant here – blah blah! Anyway, here are some new plans for the books I have published thus far, timeframe uncertain.
Produce a reformatted edition of Asbjørnsen & Moe – with narrower margins, smaller type, reduced line height, and so on, to bring the page count down. I will offer these volumes on non-monopolistic POD services. This point is going to prove the bottleneck; repagination is going to take quite a bit of time, especially since my energy has also to go into producing new books.
Sell .pdf copies of the original annotated edition for a reasonable price on Ko-fi.com.
Bump up prices on Amazon so that I receive a royalty comparable with the money I receive through Ko-fi. (I’ll be withdrawing the non-annotated edition from Amazon.)
Investigate the viability of deluxe hardcover volumes for private distribution.
I don’t expect I will sell more books by making these changes; what I will ensure, however, is that readers have good alternatives to buying from monopolists
Two goats once met on a bridge. One was white, the other black. The bridge was so narrow that neither one could pass the other. They stood for a while on opposite ends of the bridge and looked across at each other.
“I will not stand aside for you,” said the white goat.
“Nor will I for you,” said the black one.
“I have as great a right to the bridge as you,” said the white one.
“But no greater,” said the black goat.
They continued to look scornfully at one another, and neither would give way.
“We shall quarrel about this,” said the white one.
“Yes indeed, come on, then!” said the black one.
And then they rushed at each other, and butted at one another, and they both fell headlong into the river. And then they both had to get out again.
